The insomniac ink,
can only think,
in the middle of mid-night,
when thoughts brave her fears might.
I wonder, who to blame?
the one who lit the candle flame,
or the one who blew off the same?
What if I tell their name?
And you found both of them same?
Would you believe my story still?
of wax and winds on closed window sill?
So here! Please Hear!!
I met Him as a noble man,
demanding justice for a woman.
Lighting candles at the India Gate,
to condemn the Woman’s sorry fate.
I look back and think-
where I met you?
Who you are?
What I had thought you were?
Yes!You are the Candle-March-Man!
You were the one who held candle marches,
when “Nirbhaya” was Raped.
When “Jessica” was killed.
You are the one,
who has done the same again.
March with a candle again.
That certainly will erase all my pain.
Post your picture on your Facebook wall.
Get a thousand shares and “likes”.
that’s the wish of this dying Girl.
You took away my dignity today.
You didn’t kill me,
and let me pray.
For mercy. A bit of it.
“Kill my body too,
if you kill the soul in it”...
You Left me on the highway,
like a burnt out candle stub.
with blood like molten wax,
but no hope for a flame to rub.
Left me to die,
to crawl-to wriggle-to Death.
With excruciating pain,
until I met my fate.
You saw my body through my clothes,
devouring my flesh in varied curves.
But you couldn’t see the pain in my cries,
and the curves of bloodied tear drops...
Now I should hide in shame,
cover my face and run from the world.
you have saved your pride of being a MAN,
Proved your Power, over a “Weak Woman”.
I should wear a mask and never show my face,
You already wear one.
So please go on with grace.
Because, I am the victim.
You are the victor.
I should be ashamed,
but not you Mister!
You need not light candles for me
and pity my poor fate.
I pity Your hypocrisy,
Oh! My Candle-march-mate!
Since the human in you,
has died long ago,
and a hypocrite has filled the hole.
I can only pray with pity,
“May your Soul Rest in Peace.
Mine would Never”...